There was something about the quiet that made her uneasy.

Eli was curled up on the rug in the living room, building towers out of mismatched Lego bricks and softly humming some tune he’d probably picked up from Aunty Carmen’s morning worship playlist. The smell of cinnamon and pine cleaner lingered in the air, thanks to her overly ambitious cleaning spree, one that had done nothing to quiet the chaos in her chest.

Nathan was in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, washing a plate that had already been clean. She watched him from the hallway, his shoulders tense, jaw locked. He hadn’t said much since Roman left. But he didn’t need to.

He was furious. Protective. And more than a little heartbroken.

She stepped into the doorway.

“Nate?”

He looked up, and there was that flash of something vulnerable in his eyes, something that broke her a little.

She came closer, voice soft. “I think maybe you should take a step back.”

He turned off the tap, dried his hands slowly with a towel. “From what?”

“From this. From… me. From Roman. From the storm that’s clearly coming.”

Nathan leaned against the sink, arms folded. “Leila.”

“I mean it,” she whispered. “I can handle him. You don’t have to fight battles that aren’t yours.”

“But they are mine.” His voice was steady. “Whether you want them to be or not.”

She shook her head. “I’m trying to protect you, Nathan.”

He pushed off the counter and came to stand in front of her. “And I’m trying to protect you. You think I don’t see the way you’ve been unraveling since he came back? The way you’re pretending like you’re fine when you're barely holding it together?”

Leila looked away, throat tight. “You don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand,” he interrupted, voice thick. “I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not on Eli. I’ve been here. Every day. For five years. I didn’t just show up with questions, I built a life with you.”

A pause. Then, softer: “You’re trying to carry this all alone again. And I’m telling you, you don’t have to.”

Leila blinked fast, willing herself not to cry. “You’re not his father, Nathan.”

“But I’m his dad,” he said, fiercely. “And if that ever stops meaning something to you, I hope it never stops meaning something to him.”

A small voice interrupted from the rug.

“Nathan?”

They both turned to see Eli standing, barefoot, holding a Lego figure in one hand.

“Can you help me make the house? Mine keeps falling.”

Nathan smiled, his first real one all day and crouched down. “Of course, champ. Let’s do it together.”

Leila watched them from behind her hand as Eli crawled into Nathan’s lap like it was the safest place in the world. Nathan listened carefully to his instructions, nodding like he was being briefed for a mission. Eli’s laughter echoed softly through the apartment as they rebuilt the plastic house, brick by tiny brick.

She wanted to freeze the moment.

To bottle it.

Because whatever else was uncertain, this love, between them, was not.

Later, when Eli had fallen asleep on the couch and Nathan was slipping his arms into his jacket, Leila followed him to the door.

He glanced down at her, eyes still warm with everything he hadn’t said.

She reached for his hand.

“Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he murmured. “Just let me stay in it with you. Even when it gets ugly.”

She nodded, barely.

He kissed her forehead gently, like a promise.

And then he was gone.

But his presence lingered, like warmth after a fire.

Like the echo of someone who wasn’t finished loving her.

Talia stood in the bakery’s kitchen, hands gripping the edge of the stainless-steel counter, knuckles white with tension. The air was thick with the scent of fresh pastries and the kind of silence that always came before an explosion. Leila had just walked in, eyes heavy with exhaustion and a trace of accusation.

"You lied to Roman," Leila said quietly, shutting the door behind her. "You told him I was with Nathan... that Eli might be his."

Talia turned, arms crossing over her chest. "I did what I had to. He was going to explode, Leila. You saw it. He was seconds away from losing it. You think he would've just accepted the truth? That you kept his child from him for years?"

Leila’s lips parted in disbelief. "You didn’t give me the chance to tell him. You took that from me."

"You weren’t going to tell him! You were frozen. You were spiraling. So I stepped in. I protected you."

"Protected me or protected yourself?" Leila snapped. "Because I’m starting to wonder if this is about you being scared Roman will choose me again."

Talia’s face flinched, barely but it was enough.

"Wow," she muttered, looking away. "You think I care who Roman wants? I’ve been over him for years."

"You sure about that? Because ever since he came back, you’ve been acting like this is some twisted triangle when it never was. I was never with Nathan. You know that. I never slept with him. He was just... there."

Talia scoffed. "Yeah. Always there. Playing dad. Being your emotional crutch. You let him believe he had a shot. You used his love to stay afloat. So don’t you dare act like the victim."

Leila swallowed hard. The truth of it stung more than she expected.

"I didn’t mean to lead him on. I didn’t know how to stop needing him," she admitted softly. "But I never lied about who Eli’s father is. You did. And now... now I have to live with the fallout."

Talia looked away, the guilt flickering briefly in her eyes. "I was trying to buy you time. That’s all."

"Well, time’s up," Leila said, voice cracking. "Roman’s not the man he used to be. He’ll get the DNA test one way or another. And when he finds out the truth, this mess you created is going to land right at my feet."

Talia took a deep breath, then nodded slowly. "Then maybe it’s time you stopped hiding and started fighting for the life you want."

The silence between them lingered. Heavy. Messy. True.

For all their flaws, they were still sisters. Still tethered by blood and choices they couldn’t undo.

“I still don’t know who to hate more,” Leila whispered. “You, or myself.”

Talia blinked hard. “Then maybe we deserve each other.”

She turned to leave, but Leila’s voice caught her at the door.

“Talia,” she said. “I don’t know if I can forgive you.”

Talia didn’t look back. “That’s okay. I’m not sure I can forgive you either''